Romance in The Morgue
by GothicBeeza
Summary: My collection of one-short stories about my OTP - Sherlolly, all focusing on interactions between the two in the morgue.
1. Make Me

It had been a very trying day for Molly. Forced to work a double-shift thanks to the sheer incompetence of the new lab technician (she had BEGGED to be allowed to help make the decision on who to hire), having to deal with a weeks worth of paperwork AND the fact that her last 2 autopsies had been small children, the very last thing she wanted to deal with was a devastatingly handsome and totally frustrating consulting detective.

Sherlock Holmes had paraded in, with his poor best friend/sidekick John about an hour ago, declaring that he needed some hands for an experiment. Oh but only LEFT hands, and even then they had to be the left hands of people who had in fact been left handed.

It took Molly around half an hour to locate this data, and provide Sherlock with his precious hands. He barely looked up as he immediately began his experiment, directly across from Molly - much to her chagrin.

She continued to write up her report for the day, muttering things to herself as she went. Sherlock appeared to be doing the same - observing the hand and muttering quietly to himself. It didn't long for Molly to realise that Sherlock was in fact muttering things like "wrong", and "highly doubtful" in response to her notes. By now, he was really getting on her nerves. So when he started making demands of her, she certainly wasn't going to have any of it!

"Molly! I need sulfuric acid, 3 scalpels and the ink from a ballpoint pen".

Molly looked up from her report, sighing.

"Sherlock, the acid and the scalpels are over on the side bench" she pointed in that general direction "and I am using the only ballpoint pen in the whole department".

Clearly, this did not work for him, as he got up from his seat, and stood right next to Molly".

"This is extremely important, I need you to give me that pen".

With this, Molly stood up, staring straight into his eyes - not willing to give him an inch.

"My paperwork is important Sherlock" she said in a deadly calm voice.

"Oh I highly doubt that" he scoffed.

John looked up from his place over by the door, trying to give Sherlock the 'Oh my god I can't believe you just said that' look. Unlucky for him, he completely missed that look, as he was having to contend with an increasingly angry pathologist.

"Well you CERTAINLY won't be getting this pen now!" Molly exclaimed

"I WILL have that pen Molly"

"MAKE ME!"

Sherlock didn't miss a beat, grabbing the pathologist around the waist, and pulling her in for a mind-blowing kiss. He began to pull away, but Molly was having none of it, grabbing on to the lapels of his famous belstaff and crushing his lips against hers. Both of them unawares of course, that John was still staring at them, his mouth fallen open like a fish. When it appeared they wouldn't be coming up for air anytime soon, he surreptitiously snuck out of the lab, quickly texting Mary what he had witnessed.

When Sherlock and Molly finally broke apart, they just stood there, staring into each others eyes as they fought to catch their breath (and calm those raging libidos). Finally it was Molly who broke the silence.

"You're still not getting that pen"

Sherlock smirked

"That's not what I want anymore"

Molly's breath hitched, her words almost catching in her throat.

"And what do you want?"

"You".


	2. THAT Shirt

John and Mary arrived at St Barts lab, as requested, after dropping their young daughter Amelia off at the creche. Technically Sherlock had only requested Johns' presence, but Mary had been cooped up in the house so long after giving birth she would happily follow John and Sherlock on any case, no matter how crazy.

"Ah John, good to see you are on time for a change" Sherlock called from his microscope, not bothering to look up.

John huffed at this, however Mary went over to Sherlock to give him a hug, and a peck on the cheek.

"Hello to you too Mary" he said in response.

Mary giggled and looked over at the empty station nearby.

"Where's Molly?"

"Just popped to the ladies I think, shouldn't be long".

As if on queue, Molly walked back into the lab.

"Hello everyone" she said rather cheerfully.

John and Mary just gaped at her. Molly Hooper was standing there, completely unabashedly, in Sherlocks infamous purple shirt. She picked up her lab coat, throwing it back over the top, but clearly the damaged has been done.

"Um...Sherlock" John started.

"Yes John" Sherlock sighed, still not looking up.

"Care to explain that?".

Sherlock looked up from his work, clearly annoyed.

"Explain what exactly?"

"THAT" John pointed at Molly.

"Don't be so rude John. That's Molly Hooper of course" he stated, "Has having a small infant completely dulled your senses?".

Molly and Mary were clearly trying to hold it together, both knowing EXACTLY what was going on, but John just not seeing it (as per usual).

"I think what my dear husbands means, Sherlock" Mary started, still trying to stifle her giggles, "is, would you like to explain why Molly is wearing one of your shirts? Specifically, your favourite shirt".

Sherlock smiled at this, giving Molly a rather salacious look. She just stood there, trying to control the blush that began creeping across her features.

"I thought it would have been fairly obvious." he began, "Molly stayed over last night, her shirt was in no fit state to be worn to work today, so she decided to steal one of mine"

Molly came up to Sherlock and playfully swatted his arm with file she had just picked up.

"I did not STEAL it. I put it in so I wouldn't be naked while I made us some tea, and I distinctly remember you getting all flustered and muttering something about how good I looked in it, so I thought it only logical to wear it all day" she finished with a shrug.

Mary could not wipe the smug look over her face, elbowing Sherlocks other arm "Oooh you rascal! So how long have you and Molly been having 'sleepovers' then?"

Sherlock looked over at Molly, "I don't believe we actually slept last night".

Molly dissolved into a fit of giggles at this, clearly remember last nights 'activities'. She immediately sobered up when she saw the look that Sherlock was giving her, a combination between appreciating how good the shirt looked on her, and how much he really wanted to rip it off her body.

Mary took this as a signal, grabbing the completely shocked into silence John "Come on husband, let's go have a coffee and leave these two to it".

John finally came to his senses, as Sherlock pulled Molly against him.

"Better make that 2 coffees", John replied.

Mary pulled him out of the lab, just in time, as Sherlock decided that the shirt would actually look quite good...on the floor of Mollys' office.


	3. All Good Things Come In Threes

That was the old saying; good things come in threes. As Sherlock looked back over his day, he would certainly have to agree.

The day began quite well for the Consulting Detective, with his landlady (but certainly not his housekeeper) Mrs Hudson his dropping of his favourite belstaff from the drycleaners. He slipped into the freshly laundered jacket, the faint scent of Tetrachloroethylene in the air, flipping up his collar as he left 221B in his wake. Oh yes, that was the first good thing of his day.

The second came as his phone beeped from deep within his pockets. He pulled it out to reveal a text from Lestrade, summoning him to a particular interesting crime scene. As Sherlock scanned over the message a smile crept over his face. This was certainly at least an eight, perhaps even a nine. He hailed a cab, and headed over to the crime scene.

It was just as Lestrade had promised - 3 murders so far, the causes of death all varying, the only thing tying them together was the numbers carved into each of the victims ankles. The crime scene itself garnered very little information, other than the fact that the victims had been killed elsewhere. This murderer was clever, leaving behind only the faintest of clues. Oh it was Christmas for Sherlock! This was number 2 for the day.

Naturally, at this point, the body was transported to St Barts - Sherlocks home away from home. In the main hospital it was chaos, too much life. But down in the morgue, it was just as he liked - calm and peaceful. That peace was often punctuated with inane giggling from one Dr Molly Hooper, but Sherlock found that it was just part of the atmosphere these days. What was better than the giggling, was the moans that he could often coaxed out of her - which was a very distracting thought to be having during an autopsy. As he looked over at his pathologist methodically talking everyone through her findings, he found his mind drifting (well he clearly already knew the facts anyway) to memories of the previous few nights. He could perfectly picture Molly's supple naked body, glistening with sweat as she rode him hard, how her skin felt under his hands, the way her body reacted to his touch as he buried himself within her. As she pushed her hair over her shoulders, he could remember how her hair felt as it fell across his face, or when he could grip it tightly as his lips plundered hers. Her neck was now slightly exposed as she leaned across the corpse to point out something, and all Sherlock could think of was the way the skin there tasted, his tongue lapping at the sensitive area, causing her to shiver under his ministrations…

"Sherlock are you listening to me?"

Sherlock was snapped out of his day dream by his rather irritated pathologist. He looked momentarily startled, hoping that his body had not betrayed his racy thoughts.

"Of course"

"Then what was the cause of death?"

Ah, she was testing him. Goodie.

"It's simple. Dry drowning. Our victim was given a lethal dosage of anaesthetic, which is why there is liquid in the lungs, but they do not have any of the usual signs of drowning - no struggling, as it were. This coupled with the previous causes of death seems to point towards our murderer being at least passingly familiar with the medical profession".

This was of course, correct. Molly gave him a look and proceeded with the rest of the autopsy, leaving him to return to his thoughts.

He confessed this all to her that night, as they lay together in the post coital bliss.

"I never knew you were so romantic" she mused.

"Let me prove to you again".

Molly laughed "After the last two times?"

He rolled over on to her, giving her a hungry look.

"Well you know what they say Molly….all good things come in threes".


End file.
